


Abandoned and Found

by QueenOfDesithell (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Anal, Apartment, Apologies, Arguments, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Early Mornings, Gay, Grudges, Kissing, Love, M/M, Pining, Protection, Sex, Shoving, Showers, Surprises, Trust, break in, casdean - Freeform, rough, tackling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:17:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4693490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/QueenOfDesithell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester was Castiel's best friend senior year of high school. They did everything together, and had plans to make it stay that way. But then one day Dean left, without a word, leaving Castiel alone and hurt. Over time, hed had to make peace with the fact that Dean wasn't coming back, and he had no idea why. <br/>Until one day, several years later, Dean breaks into Castiel's apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bump In The Night

Castiel jolts up in bed, having been awoken by something. He sits in silence in his bedroom, his heart hammering from the sudden movement of snapping awake, and tries to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He listens, straining to hear any little sound. His own breathing seems too loud in the oddly deafening quiet. A glance at his bedside table clock tells him it's only 1:30 in the morning. He hasn't been asleep very long.  
Moments pass without event, his heart calming and his head clearing along with the passing seconds. Maybe he'd just been dreaming, and there wasn't anything to worry about. Unfortunately, his instincts keep telling him that's not true. His stomach feels tight with the sense that he might not be alone.   
A floorboard creaks then, and he knows exactly which one it is. He's lived in this apartment long enough to recognize the sound of that one squeaky section in the living room. It never made that sound unless weight was put on it. Okay now he's certain that he not the only one here.  
Slowly, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, taking care to try to be quiet. His blood is racing past his ears now, a pit of fear settling in his stomach. He grabs the baseball bat that he keeps by his bedside (who wouldn't have some sort of weapon with them in a place like New York?) and holds it up against his shoulder as if he's going to swing.   
Cautiously, he pads through the darkness of his bedroom and out into the hallway. His movements are catlike, able to avoid the obstacles that could have tripped him up otherwise. Like an FBI agent, he positions the bat out in front of him like a gun, looking both ways down the corridor and listening. There're only three rooms in the hallway, and none of them really seem to be occupied. He continues out of the space itself and into the living room.   
The noise had come from here, and he peers through the dark, taking in the shapes of his furniture, but nothing seems out of place. No one in here besides him.  
He sticks himself along the left wall, the bat upon his shoulder again, and shuffles ever so slowly towards his small kitchen. Every breath he's taking seems too loud, every step seems like a giant's, and his heart is pounding too fast that he's sure anyone within a mile radius can hear it. Approaching the kitchen, he sticks his bat out in front of him once again, first shifting left, and then shifting right to check for anything out of place. There's nothing but his small dining set and his normal cabinetry and appliances. This is crazy, he had to have been dreaming.  
The bat is lowered and he exhales some of his built up tension. He walks over to his sink, fumbling for the knob in the dark until he turns on the cold water. He abandons his bat at his side whilst he leans down to splash his face. The cold relaxes him, and when he's done he heads back out of the kitchen, wanting to just go back to sleep. It's only coincidence that he's yawning when he passes through the kitchen doorway, and doesn't see that he's about to run head on into someone.   
The impact of body on body takes his breath away, and he snaps his eyes open, seeing a shadowed figure right in front of him. Definitely not dreaming.  
"Shit," Castiel reacts quickly, hoisting up the bat and trying to swing at the body, not caring where he'd hit. His instincts take over, and his only thought is to get away from this intruder.   
Shockingly, his swing is stopped short by a hand right on the barrel of his bat, having halted the attempt completely. It's ripped right from his hands, leaving hot burns where he'd tried to grip on.   
"Don't hurt me," he puts up his hands in surrender, backing into his kitchen slowly, trying to put distance between him and the stranger.   
"Stop moving," the figure tells him. Its voice is male, low and husky, like that of a strong grown man. The command sounds more like a threat, but Castiel can't get his legs to stop shuffling him backwards, leading him around the table as the male follows.  
"I said stop moving," he says again, but it's almost in an exasperated manner this time, instead of a menacing one. Castiel freezes, trying to decide what to do. His adrenaline is through the roof, his chest thudding so hard he might have a heart attack. Quickly, he steals a glance to the living room.   
"I don't want trouble, please," he attempts to say calmly, but his voice wavers anyway. He takes in the scene he's in. He stands on one side of the table, having had shuffled all the way around it.   
"Then stay still," the man is on the other side, looking straight at him, eyes boring into his. But Castiel has made up his mind already, and he only hesitates for a split second before he turns around and darts into his living room, racing towards the front door.   
There's no time to think, just run, but his breath is knocked out of him when he's tackled to the floor. He lands on his stomach, sputtering for breath while trying to wiggle out from underneath the weight on his back.   
"Jesus Christ," the man says, turning Castiel over underneath him, still thrashing about, trying to get away.   
"Hold still dammit I'm not going to hurt you," he says, grabbing at Castiel's wrists to stop his attempted punches.   
"Let me go!" Castiel writhes, but the man is far too strong to be letting go anytime soon.   
"CAS STOP," the figure shouts at him. Cas instantly freezes, breathing heavily, utterly confused. He forces himself to calm down enough to focus his eyes on the man straddling his waist. He's unmistakable, even with darkness shadowing his face.  
"Dean?"


	2. Answers

"Easy there tiger," the man -Dean- says. Cas blinks hard, forcing himself to breathe. He yanks his wrists out of Dean's grasp and shoves his chest, hard.  
"What the hell Winchester?!," he seethes, pushing himself up on his elbows, staring straight at the dark face.  
"I can explain," Dean tries, but Cas just shoves him again. Getting the hint, Dean pushes off of him and stands, holding his hand down to help Cas. It's ignored as he straightens himself up alone, glaring at Dean all the while. He turns to flick on the lamp behind him, bathing the living room in a soft yellow glow.   
There he is. It really is Dean Winchester, in the flesh. Same soft green eyes, same cocky manners, same freckles- but different build. He'd become taller since Cas had last seen him, and way more muscular than he   
remembered.  
"You really think you can explain breaking into my apartment? You think you can explain showing up out of nowhere after 7 years of being gone?!" Castiel asks, dumbfounded. He pushes past Dean, making sure to knock his shoulder as he walks back to the kitchen. He can sense Dean following him, and turns on the light, having to blink to get his eyes to adjust to the sudden bright white.   
Padding over to the small refrigerator, he opens it, reaches inside, and grabs a bottle of beer, practically throwing it at Dean in annoyance. He shouldn't be being nice to the man, but here he is giving him a drink anyway.  
"Geez Cas..." The man complains, lucky enough to have caught the bottle. Cas ignores him, and instead reaches into his mini wine cooler, taking out the red wine that can make his head buzz with one glass. All he needs right now is something to distract him from the man he once played baseball and went to movies with, the man that used to prompt him to do the stupidest things that turned out to be the most fun things Cas had ever done in his life, and the man that made him fall so stupidly head over heels for him, and then left him all alone.   
After pouring himself a glass of wine, Castiel moves to lean against the counter beside Dean, taking a sip of the sweet cherry liquid, his throat tingling as it goes down. Already he feels better, but he can't bring himself to look at anything but the contents of his glass. They're both silent, Dean having already downed some of his beer, standing awkwardly next to one another until Castiel speaks.  
"You can't explain Dean," he says quietly, speaking more to his wine than to the man beside him. How childish could this get?  
"Would you at least let me try?"   
Cas rolls his eyes, but his heart wont really let him utter a "no". After all these years he's still dying for any real excuse for what Dean did. And so he stays silent, waiting, his breath caught in his throat with anticipation.   
"My family needed money. My dad...you remember when he died, and I was struggling. I had to take care of Sammy, he wanted to go to college and I made it my goal to get him there. I had to get a job and-"  
"WE were going to go to college Dean," Cas interjects, practically glaring at the man. He takes a gulp of wine this time, wanting the rising anger to go back down. "We were going to go together remember? We had it all planned out, we were going to go to the same school, we were going to room together. We had it figured out Dean! I know you were secretly dying to go to college, you can't tell me you abandoned everything for a job!"  
At the moment, he's not doing a very good job of suppressing the malice he'd built up for these past years. He grits his teeth to make himself quiet again, clenching his jaw. Dean has downed another portion of his beer to distract himself.  
"YOU went to college Cas! I had to give it up because I needed to be somewhere else! It wasn't a waste for you, you didn't need me there." Dean protests. It only makes him angrier, and he throws back a huge swallow of his wine, needing it to burn a hole in his throat. It doesn't do anything but make his mind slightly jittered.  
"Who said I didn't want you there though Dean? No I didn't necessarily need you to be with me, but hell we had a deal. You were my best friend and that would've been really nice to have instead of being all on my own!" Cas counters, a lump in his throat making his voice waver ever so slightly, his face heating up with the emotions running through him.   
Dean seems to freeze himself, his face softening, almost sorry looking.  
"Cas...," he says softly, reaching out to grab at his arm. He tries to pull him closer but Cas only wrenches his arm from Dean's grip, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor.   
"I thought you would've made up a better excuse than that Dean. I was sick without you after senior year, and now that you're actually here, I'm sick with you."   
Castiel abandons his now empty glass of wine on the counter and steps past Dean, leading himself back into his bedroom before he can cry like a little boy right in front of the man.   
"Cas stop."  
He keeps walking, the carpet scratchy beneath his bare feet. His face gets hot, eyes threatening to spill tears.   
"Please, Im sorry."  
Dean starts to follow him, Cas can hear his footsteps. He speeds up, trying to enclose himself into his room before Dean can get to him.  
"Stop!" Dean commands loudly, and right as Cas is opening his bedroom door, he's being yanked backwards by the arm. He's made to face Dean, unable to get away and unable to hide the tears that defy him.  
"Please-"  
"You never cared Dean! I was just a joke to you wasn't I?," He accuses, eyes glaring and angry.   
"Cas what the hell? Why would you even suggest that!" Dean yells back at him, his grasp tightening on him, moving to both of his shoulders.  
"You were my best friend senior year and I thought you cared enough about me to at least tell me you were leaving, but you didn't. You didn't care."  
Dean practically growls at him, reaching around him to push open the bedroom door, forcing Cas backwards into the room before kicking the door shut behind them. His hands are fisted in the chest of Cas's worn out t-shirt, his body close as he ushers him backwards until his legs hit the edge of his bed and he almost falls. Dean catches his arm before he can tip backwards.  
"Don't you dare tell me I never cared about you," he says lowly, eyes full of fire as he stares right at Cas's face. Cas just wants to shy away, unable to handle the scrutiny Dean is giving him.  
"Then what's the real reason you left me?" He asks, heart racing from the look in Dean's eyes. Their bodies are close, Dean's freckled face right in front of his. Cas can even feel his hot breath blowing over his skin when he speaks.  
"I left because I cared Cas! I cared so fucking much and it scared the hell out of me! I cared since the day we met when you had that stupid cocky smile on your face, asking if I needed help with the calculus homework! I cared when your dad left your family and I held you until you stopped crying! I cared when I put up with your endless smart ass comments and your stupid blue eyes and your messy hair and your weird ideas and the way you made me feel like I wasn't alone." He rambles, his voice coming out breathy and fast, tripping over his words. Cas might just implode because of how fast his heart is pounding in his chest, and now he can't stop staring at Dean, instead of wanting to run away.  
"I cared so much that I fell in love with you, you idiot." He finishes.


	3. Secrets Revealed

Cas completely stops breathing, dumbstruck by what he's just heard. You'd think after waiting so long to hear those words that he would act on it, but at the moment there's nothing he can do but stare with wide doe-eyes at the green eyes of the man who just told him he loved him.   
"Cas I-" Dean tries, in a regretful tone. It seems like he hadn't meant to say the words at all. He can't finish though, and just closes his mouth again, his fingers slowly unclenching themselves from Cas's shirt.  
"I just...I don't...I'm sorry," he stutters, starting to back away from Castiel. He's going to try to leave. That isn't going to happen for a second time, not now.  
"Do you even know how long I've waited to hear you say that to me Dean?" Cas finds his voice, though it comes out quiet and low. He steps towards Dean, closing the space between them again until they're only about a foot apart. Dean scrunches his eyebrows together, confused, a gesture Cas has always found extremely adorable.  
"Huh?-"  
Cas is suddenly punching Dean in the chest once, lightly, not hard enough to hurt.  
"You jerk! You complete idiot!" He accuses Dean, punching him again. None of it was really in malice, he couldn't possibly bring himself to be mad any more.  
"What?-" Dean tries again, but Castiel only interrupts him once more.  
"I loved you since that very first day! I was head over heels for you, you stupid lug! I was crazy about you and I know you had to have known somehow! And you loved me too but you couldn't tell me? You idiot, you ruined me! All this time I've loved you and I couldn't even look at anyone else because I still think about you every day! You left me and I still loved you, you never contacted me and I still loved you, you-"  
And suddenly Dean is on him, hands on both of his cheeks, holding him in place while his mouth attacks Cas's. His lips are soft but the kiss is hard, and Cas can't seem to keep up. He can't comprehend what's happening but somehow he's kissing Dean back, and they're stumbling, but Dean is holding him tight, not letting him fall.   
Cas doesn't even realize that his hands have tangled themselves in Dean's signature leather jacket, or that he's pulling him closer. And he doesn't at first realize that Dean is crying, whispering "I'm sorry" between kisses. He doesn't notice it until he can't breathe any more, and he and Dean have to pull apart, breathing hard and still gripping each other tightly. Dean pulls him into a barely-breathable hug, burying his face in Cas's neck, one hand on the back of his head, tangled in his messy black hair. And he's holding on just as tight, arms wrapped around Dean's middle, cheek against Dean's sandy blonde hair.   
"I'm so stupid," Dean mumbles into his neck, kissing a patch of skin right under his ear.  
"I'm so sorry," he continues, his mouth moving only slightly lower. Cas has to rest his forehead against Dean's shoulder, goosebumps racing down every inch of his skin.  
"It's okay," he tells him, and for once he means it.  
"But I left you. I ran like a coward," Dean whispers against his collarbone, grazing his mouth over it when he speaks.   
"And I forgive you Dean," He says into Dean's hair, kissing his head. The man straightens up then, staring at Cas as if for confirmation.  
"Really." Cas nods, sliding his fingers into the belt loops of Dean's over-worn jeans.  
"I wasn't there for you Cas," Dean says weakly, arms hanging by his sides.  
"You're here now." He replies, pulling Dean close by his jeans. He holds them together, waiting, until finally Dean puts his arms around him once more. They stand there, heads on each other's shoulders just holding each other, swaying ever so slightly as if dancing. The lighting is dim, just the bedside table shining yellow light across them in the dark. Everything is quiet, neither of them needing to say anything important enough to disrupt the moment. Cas finds himself nodding off against Dean's shoulder, lost in the warmth and quiet and peace.  
"Dean?" He mumbles quietly against the leather jacket.  
"Hm?"   
"It's 2:30 in the morning. I'm tired," Cas says slowly, feeling sluggish. Dean slowly lets go of him, stepping back to give him room, and pushes him gently towards the bed. Castiel climbs in gratefully, sliding under the covers and pulling them up to his chest.  
Dean smiles to himself while he clicks off the bedside lamp, washing the room in darkness again. He turns to leave, to maybe sleep on the couch or something, taking one last glance at Cas before he opens the bedroom door.  
"Dean!" Cas exclaims softly, sitting up in bed quickly to look at the man.  
"Yes?"  
"Where do you think you're going?" He questions, voice slow with the hint if sleep.   
"The couch?" Dean asks skeptically, trying to hide his smile. Cas is adorable when he's tired. He doesn't even keep his eyes open when he speaks, and his words come out sounding like a child's.   
"I don't have cooties," he pouts, opening his eyes just a tad, eyebrows knitted together. He's so child-like and it's very cute. Dean bites the inside of his cheek, unable to hide his small smile as Cas lays back down, cuddling into his pillow. Dean shuts the door behind him again and walks to the empty side of the bed, shrugging of his jacket and just letting it fall to the ground where he stands. Then come his shoes, and he's about to climb in when Cas mumbles to him.  
"You may sleep in jeans on your own time Dean, but in my house, I prefer to be more comfortable and less restricted than that."   
Dean can't keep in his soft laugh, obeying the sleepy man and undoing his jeans, letting them fall and stepping out of them.   
"If you want sleep pants, I have some," Cas tells him, his voice muffled because he's turned the opposite way from Dean.  
"I'm okay Cas...if you're okay, I mean," Dean replies. Cas nods against his pillow and Dean finally shuffles under the sheets as well, turning on his side to face Cas's back. What he really wants to do is just cuddle up behind Cas and hold him close, but he doesn't know if that's allowed and he's too chicken to try it. God, he never been this much of a sissy with anyone before.   
After a few moments of silence, Cas huffs out an annoyed breath and turns around, now facing Dean. He pushes his body against Dean's, snuggling himself against Dean's chest before the man even has time to react.   
"I don't bite Dean," Cas mumbles against his t-shirt, snaking his arm under Dean's to wrap it around his waist. Dean chuckles, relaxing into Cas's touch, wrapping his own arm across Cas's back to hold him closer.  
"Only sometimes" Cas says against his chest, and Dean snorts, unable to keep out his laughter anymore. He holds Cas as he's giggling like a kid, and Cas is laughing against him too, and everything just seems right. This is how it always should have been.   
"You're a dork dude," Dean sighs happily as Cas throws his top leg over Dean's. his fingers toy with the hem of Dean's shirt at the back, pulling it up slightly to run a fingertip against's Dean's skin. The man hums happily, eyes closed in a sleepy bliss, and he buries his face into Cas's wild mess of hair.  
"G'night Cas," he smiles against his head, planting a small kiss onto it.  
"I love you Dean," Castiel says softly, being pulled into the drug of sleep. Dean himself feels relaxed, warm, safe.  
"I love you too."


	4. Trust

The next morning, Cas wakes up to an empty bed. No warm body beside him, no clothes on the floor, and the bed is cool again on Dean's side from his absence. He's been gone a while. Cas sits up, shoves the covers off of him, and gets out of bed.   
"Dean?" He pads into the living room, tired eyes failing to find any glimpse of the man. His eyebrows knit together, catching no sign of Dean's whereabouts anywhere. He's not here, and there's no sign that he'll be coming back.   
Cas slumps within himself, physically drooping. He flops onto the couch, thinking he should wait. He thought Dean wouldn't do this to him...but as 45 minutes pass, he's lost hope that the man is coming back. Sighing sadly to himself, he picks himself up from the couch and heads to the bathroom, planning to take a shower.  
He undresses, feeling cold and once again alone, and steps into the hot water, just wanting to relax. It doesn't really help, and he only spends as long as it takes to wash, and that's all, about a 15 minute attempt to wash away his hurt. He steps out again, wrapping a towel around his waist, not even bothering to dry himself any more than that. He was going to wallow, wet and shivering, because that's how he felt inside. Dripping wet, he heads back into the living room, suddenly alarmed by a burning smell, and the sound of sizzling. Is his apartment on fire?   
Practically sprinting to his kitchen, he expects to see flames licking out of an electric plug, or his toaster, or his fridge, or something else other than what he sees.   
"Dean?" He asks, more to himself than to the other man. Dean has his back turned, attempting to fry some bacon in one of Cas's old skillets. It smelled horrible. Dean turns slowly, flicking off the heat to the stove as he does.  
"Hey Cas," he sighs, probably from his failed try at cooking.  
"What are you doing here?" Cas inquires, utterly confused. He'd thought the man had left him again...  
"I just got back from the grocery store because you had absolutely no food that I could work with. And I was trying to make you breakfast, but even though I'm a good cook, I just can never seem to get bacon. And so I was- wait, why do you sound so surprised?" Dean rambles, catching himself when he realizes Cas's confusion. Shit, Cas had made a mistake. A huge, huge mistake at thinking Dean was disloyal again. And now Dean notice his misunderstanding.  
"I woke up and I was alone, an everything was gone. I just thought..." He can't finish, too embarrassed from his childish assumptions. His eyes are trained at the ground, water running down his skin onto the tile floor.  
"You thought I left," Dean finishes for him, sounding so hurt that Cas just wants to take back what he'd said and beg Dean to forget.  
"You were gone for a while and I didn't get a note or a call...I just didn't know," he apologizes, feeling like a jerk. He was a jerk.  
"What about last night? I said I was sorry and you said you forgave me Cas. I thought you trusted me," Dean accuses, spitting the words at Castiel. He flinches with every one of them, hearing the muffled anger buried in them.   
"I do trust you Dean, I was just unsure-"   
"You don't trust me Cas. Not yet," Dean steps towards him, menacingly staring, eyes wandering all over his body.  
"I do Dean!" He says, intimidated by the way Dean's looking at him.   
"You don't" Dean steps again, almost to him, fire in his eyes.  
"I-"  
"I'll show you you can trust me. Ill make you trust me," Dean is upon him now, grabbing him by the back of the head and yanking him to the man, crashing their lips together in the messiest, hottest way. Dean's anger at Cas flows through his mouth, which attacks Cas's fervently, hardly giving him chance to breathe.  
"Bedroom, now," Dean growls at him, pulling his bottom lip with his teeth. Cas turns and basically sprints to his room, his heart thudding for an altogether different reason than being out of breath. Dean is right behind him, closing the door shut before grabbing Cas's shoulders and forcing his back against the door. Cas gasps, but Dean is relentless, and shoves his tongue into his mouth, claiming dominance, which Cas is eager to give up for the moment.   
"I told you I wasn't going to leave again," Dean hisses into his mouth, and Cas is grasping at Dean's shirt, pulling it up as far as it will go before Dean yanks it over his head entirely. He connects their mouths again, one of his hands against the door by Cas's head, and one finding its way to his ass, squeezing it through the towel. Cas is still wet, but he pulls Dean's chest to his, gripping tightly onto the man's sides, his skin hot against Cas's.   
"I told you I love you," Dean says against his lips, breath hot and heavy as his mouth moves to Cas's neck, nipping along his jawline first. Cas fumbles with Dean's belt, blindly undoing it.   
"I know you did. I said I love you too," he replies breathlessly, the words hardly even coming out. He pops the button of Dean's jeans, and yanks down the zipper. Dean sucks a bruise into his skin, right at the base of where his neck meets his shoulder, and he groans, hands flying into Dean's hair, pulling. Dean lets go of him, backing up just enough to be able to grab Cas and push him to the bed. He falls, back landing on his mattress, and he doesn't even have time to think before Dean is on him again, lips on his collarbones and chest. The man's hands are busy shoving down his jeans, letting them fall and stepping out of them before crawling right on top of Cas. Castiel kisses him then, just as roughly as Dean had to him, and shuffles backwards until his head hits the pillows, never once breaking apart from the man. Now more comfortable, Dean settles himself against Cas, hips melding together. Cas lets out a strangled moan, hands grasping onto Dean's ass like he'd been doing to him just moments earlier against the door.   
Dean grinds down against him once, drawing it out slowly, making Cas forget how he was supposed to breathe. Dean's face is buried into his neck now as he grinds onto Cas again, Cas holding onto Dean for dear life. He's going to explode if it keeps going on like this.  
"Please Dean, enough. I can't take it," he begs, too caught up in the moment to care about how submissive he's being.   
Dean bites his neck in response before coming up, jumping off of Cas and shedding his boxers onto the floor in one swift motion. He back on Cas in an instant, tearing his towel from his hips, and leaving Cas wondering how the hell the thing hadn't fallen off before now. Dean kneels between Cas's legs, both of them completely exposed to the other, but neither seeming to be embarrassed at all. Dean wipes a wet lock of hair off Cas's forehead, his demeanor changing in a split second.  
"Do you want me?" He asks seriously, making sure Cas is looking at him.  
"Wholly," he answers, spreading his legs a little wider, baring everything to the man. He wouldn't be doing this if he didn't trust him. Dean leans down to kiss him, simultaneously starting to thrust a finger into him, but Cas grabs onto his arm to stop it.  
"I don't need anything Dean. I did this last night, hours before you ever showed up here," he tells him, moving his hand away. "I'm still ready, all I need is you."  
"Cas are you sure?" Dean asks skeptically, though he can hear the eagerness laced through his question.  
"I was thinking about you Dean," Cas whispers against Dean's mouth, answering him in a way he knew would get him going.  
"Fuck Cas" Dean abandons his cautions, only driven by need. Cas points to his bedside table, and Dean stretches to open the drawer and draw out what he needs. He instantly tries to tear open the silver packet, but it isn't working.  
"You're always who I think about Dean, every time," Cas continues, driving the man crazy with his words. Frustrated, Dean rips open the packet with his teeth, rolling it onto himself as fast as possible. He unscrews the little bottle of lube, squeezing a generous amount into his hand before spreading it over himself.   
"Fuck Cas," he whines, hardly able to take the time to situate himself right.   
"I want you so bad Dean," Cas pulls Dean back down to him, connecting their lips in a desperate kiss.  
"Do you trust me Cas?"  
"I need you."  
"Do you trust me?"  
"Yes."  
And with that, Dean pushes himself into Cas, and shit, he wasn't ready for the feeling. Dean lets out a helpless moan, drowning himself in Cas's mouth, muffling Cas's own whine.  
Nails drag down Dean's back, surely leaving red in their wake, and ankles lock against his lower back, pulling him in as far as he can go.   
Dean groans and Cas hisses in his breath, gasping "Dean." Dean pulls out almost all of the way, and pushes back in slowly, engulfed in everything Cas. His mind is going crazy with Cas's name, it's all he can think about. He does this a few more time, slowly and carefully, wanting nothing more than not to hurt Cas, but at the same time thrust into him as hard as he could.   
"Please Dean...more," Cas sweats, one hand in the man's hair and the other gripping into the pillows behind his head.   
Dean obeys, letting loose his desire and slamming into Cas, forcing him back ever so slightly.  
"Faster," he groans loudly, eyes screwed shut. Dean's are wide open, watching him pant and writhe. He isn't going to last if he keeps looking at Cas in pleasure, but he can't look away. He can only give the man what he wants, and so he goes faster, deeper, harder. His head is spinning and he can't breathe as Cas cries out, and the fire in his stomach is burning him.  
"Dean I-shit!" Cas yells as Dean hits him repeatedly right where it matters, seeing stars behind his eyelids, "I can't."  
"I know," Dean grunts, resting his forehead on Cas's as the fire burns so hotly that it's burning him alive.  
"Let go Cas," he permits, and he does, coming undone over the both of them. Dean keeps moving as he bursts into flames, and all he can hear is Cas crying out to him, and Cas's name just stringing from his own mouth over and over again.   
Their fires extinguish in moments, leaving them panting for breath, sweaty and hot on each other. Dean pulls out of him and pulls off the rubber confinement, tossing into the little trashcan by Cas's bedside table. He collapses beside Cas, trying to slow his breathing.  
"Holy shit," Cas says in disbelief, completely spent as well. Dean smiles at the ceiling, feeling exactly the same. Cas turns to him, propping himself up with his elbow to look down at Dean.  
"I normally don't bottom" he tells him, and Dean can't help but laugh.  
"I think you liked it though," He teases, looking up into those indescribably blue eyes.   
"That's not fair," Cas protests, but he's smiling too.  
"We'll take turns," Dean winks at him, and the smile grows. Cas leans down to kiss him, lips altogether opposite from what they'd just done. It's a soft kiss, loving, long, and passionate, and it's just as good as their rough ones, if not better.   
"I trust you Dean," Cas says, pulling away slowly. He wants Dean to believe him.   
"Good," The other man replies happily.


End file.
